


Aesthetic

by zipplekink



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Corny that's what it is, Fluff, M/M, Smut, artist!zayn, liams aggressive i guess but not enough to tag him as aggressive!Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zipplekink/pseuds/zipplekink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn knows he’s never going to be completely satisfied with it, he knows he is too hard on himself. He also knows Liam would love it even if he drew a round, simple smiley face with a red stick figure body instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aesthetic

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I've gotten an idea from a post but have been unable to find said post in my four billion likes. I'll link it here once I find it though, I promise. 
> 
> Thank you to Caroline for being a massive support and always making me feel amazing, which is why I'm posting this finally. And everyone else who has been giving me amazing feedback, thank you so much! You really don't know how much that means to me.

It’s Zayn’s favorite room in the house. There’s no fantastic view and the lighting is pretty shitty without the lamp from the living room, but it’s the quietest, and the farthest in the hallway which allows it to become something like an escape.

There’s magazines from the bin in the front lobby scattered across the ground, a resting place for the load of bottles and brushes he has thrown about. He’s sure his phone is mixed in with them somewhere, or maybe mixed in with the spray cans on the only piece of furniture in the room – the desk, that’s more of a storage place than a sketch station.

It had been Zayn’s bedroom, when Liam and his relationship had been “just roommates”– though, even if they had been oblivious to it at the time, Zayn doesn't think they were ever just that. He had been reluctant to leave, putting up a fight one night when they were trying to decide which room would become _their_ bedroom.

“Make it into an art room, so it will still be yours,” Liam had suggested back then, ending the argument. Zayn hadn’t known that that was something he had wanted, but Liam knew Zayn better than anyone, better even than himself.

Most of his free time is spent here, when Liam’s away or he doesn’t feel like leaving the house. The music plays quietly, ever since that one time George from upstairs threatened them with a noise complaint. Zayn can lose himself in the stroke of a paintbrush, the slow melody of a song sliding against his ear drums, so it had been an accident really when he hadn’t heard George’s banging on the front door to shut up.

_Give me a place to hide from the streetlights burning through the bedroom_

There’s a sheet of a paper tacked to the wall opposite the door, reaching from the ceiling to the floor that Zayn’s attending to, though he normally favors the floor, hunched over whatever new piece he’s working on. He hums along to the soft rasp of Ben Howard’s voice, eyes tracing the way gold mixes with the cherry red.

The face is sketched at the top of the paper, pencil lines so thin it’s hard to see from where he’s standing. It’s a face he’s sketched probably too many times, never being able to perfect it. Too much stubble, or the jaw isn’t square enough – the cheeks not round enough. There’s _alway_ s something off. And he tries to tell himself it is still good, not to be too hard on himself, but it picks and prods at him until he erases and starts over.

It’ll be painted later and he’s nervous about it. It’s been a long time since he’s painted a face, and even longer since he’s painted this particular one. He’s pushed it off, until he has the patience to practice perfecting the shades of tan and cream for the skin, and the different hues of pink on the lips and cheeks.

For now, he works on the body. He knows this is something he can do well, without too much criticism afterwards. He’s been drawing superheroes since primary school. There are sketches and paintings of Iron Mans and Green Lanterns all over the flat; some tacked to walls, some hidden in a drawer under their bills somewhere.

Time doesn’t exist in the art room, it seems. Zayn’s somehow missed when morning turned into late afternoon, when it reached eight hours since Liam tried to be quiet when getting ready for work this morning. He misses the sound of footsteps in the hall, distracted by the ‘ _will you be there when the day’s done, will you be there_ ” playing from the speakers.

He’s just filling in the circle in the middle of the chest when there’s fingers curling against his hip, pulling him from the doubt that had started to cloud his mind because no – that’s not the right shade of blue.

“Didn’t even scare you?” Liam chuckles against his temple as Zayn reaches up to pull the surgical mask from his face. He's confronted with the smell of vanilla and that god forbidden cologne Liam insists on wearing mixing with the fumes from the spray.

Through the window, he sees that the sky has started to become a multitude of oranges and yellows and he cusses to himself. He had wanted to put the piece away before Liam had come home, or at least get himself in the living room since Liam never came into his room if Zayn wasn't already in there.

He turns his head, an invitation for the strong arms that wrap around his torso and the lips that slot together with his. It’s a slow drag of the lips, gentle like when Liam’s too sleepy for anything more. It reminds him of this morning, when Liam was reluctant to get out of bed for work.

“Want me to leave you to it?” Liam asks, nuzzling his nose against Zayn’s when he pulls away. There’s a playfulness in Liam’s eyes and it’s clear that he doesn’t actually want to go anywhere. Liam rarely comes into the art room. Not because he’s not welcomed, but something about “not wanting to intrude into your space.”

“It doesn’t matter I guess,” Zayn mumbles, teeth nipping into his swollen bottom lip. “You’ve already ruined the surprise.”

Liam quirks up an eyebrow, face contorting into an expression of mock confusion. “What surprise? You? Because that’s all I see.”

He smoothes a palm across the thin material covering Zayn’s abdomen, the other coming up to trace along the scruff of Zayn’s jaw. 

Zayn snorts unabashedly, leaning into Liam’s touch. “Liam Payne, you are a shit liar,” he scolds, watching the smile that tugs at Liam’s lips.

His eyes crinkle when he giggles, his chin tucking into his shoulder. Zayn hides his fondness against Liam’s jaw, biting down around a laugh. _Oh there ain’t no way to say I love you more, so be clear._

“How could I notice anything else when you’re here?” Liam continues, voice soft. Fingers sneak under the hem of Zayn’s shirt, scratching at the patch of hair there.

“Leeyum,” Zayn groans, rolling his eyes. It’s always too much when Liam praises him in anyway, even if it’s silly and playful, even if it’s something Zayn is desperate for. He traces kisses along Liam’s jaw, stopping to pay more attention to the sensitive part of skin under the corner of Liam’s chin. He’s angry that the surprise is ruined, but Liam’s fingers are gentle, and his eyes are dark in the way that makes Zayn’s stomach twist with arousal. “You’re a donut.”

“Your favorite though, right? Like more than chocolate sprinkled?” Liam’s fingers run along the curve of muscle on his stomach, digging into the skin when he tilts his head for Zayn and Zayn takes advantage.

Zayn sucks gently on the column of his throat, rolling his tongue over the dark pink mark starting to form. “Nah, not more than chocolate sprinkled.”

Liam tilts Zayn’s head with a finger on his chin. “You’re the bad liar,” he says, voice rougher this time. His eyes are pushed together, but the playfulness is still lingering, brightening his eyes. It stirs something in Zayn and he cranes his neck to close the space between them.

Liam’s lips part, allowing Zayn’s tongue to curl around his teeth and lick at the roof of his mouth. He can taste the fruity protein shake he probably had for lunch and the cigarette on the way home. Liam’s hand slips farther, catching at the edge of Zayn’s jeans. He sucks gently at the tip of Zayn’s tongue, teeth grazing the rough muscle.

“Been thinking about you all day,” Liam says when their lips part. He tilts Zayn’s head to the side, latching to the curve of his neck without hesitation. It’s less awkward than their former position, relieving the crink that was starting to form in his neck. He wouldn't care what position Liam molded their bodies into at the moment though, because Liam's teasing pressing his cock against Zayn's back as he fits a hand under the loose material of his jeans. 

He curls a hand around the back of Liam’s head, trying to pull him closer though there’s no space between them. “Will I find naughty messages on my phone?”

He tries to sound disapproving, but Liam is cupping him through his briefs and his words roll into a drawn out sigh.

“Yes,” Liam chuckles with no shame, pushing Zayn’s jeans farther down past his hips. “Just reminding you about how I promised you last night that I was going to make you beg for it the next time.”

Zayn leans his head back on his shoulder, mouth forming a silent moan as Liam’s hand works over him through the layer. Liam’s ruthless against his skin, teeth biting and lips tugging it into his mouth. Zayn can’t wrap his head around how Liam can go from giggle shrug to “I’m going to make you beg for it” in minutes. Zayn’s stomach twists at the anticipation of whether or not Liam will stay true to his word.

They’re wearing too much clothes, and he desperately wants to feel Liam’s calloused hand against his skin rather than through those stupid superhero briefs. Liam had tried to make him beg for it the night before, but they were both too desperate for each other that he barely managed a “Liam please,” before Liam was sinking into him. Zayn likes it when Liam’s like that, but he also loves when Liam drags it out, fingers slowly fucking into  him endlessly until he is on the verge of coming untouched, begging for Liam for _more_.

“C’mon Liam, take me to bed,” he moans, grabbing at Liam’s wrist.

Liam makes a sound of protest, thumb hooking at the top of his briefs. “Wanna make you come in this room, babe. So you can think about me whenever you’re in here.”

Zayn groans, grinding his hips back against the press of Liam’s cock. “Already do,” he promises. There isn’t a time or place he isn’t thinking about Liam. No matter who he’s sketching, their cheeks will round like Liam’s, or they always end up with four chevrons inked across their forearm.

Liam’s fingers slide past his briefs, curling loosely around his length. “I just don’t want to ruin anything –“

Zayn’s words are cut off when Liam’s thumb swipes along the tip, slicking Zayn’s length with precome. He could beg right now, like Liam promised just from this.

“Please, Liam,” he groans again.

Liam nods, turning Zayn around before pushing his pants down the rest of way. When Zayn steps out of them, Liam’s hands are gripping his thighs, picking him up until his legs curl around his waist. Zayn grips Liam’s arms for support, admiring the way the muscle bulges, flexing and straining as he carries Zayn. He does it with ease, palming Zayn’s ass and mouth at the nape of his neck as he goes.

Zayn has less finesse in his movements, hands more fumbled when he cups Liam’s jaw to slot their lips together. Liam loses composure, stumbling a bit to press Zayn against the door to readjust his grip.

“Right here, good?” Liam groans, biting at Zayn’s bottom lip.

“No babe,” Zayn whines, thrusting his hips to get Liam moving. His clothed cock drags across Liam’s abdomen and he bites along a moan as they move again.

Liam barely finishes his step over the threshold before he’s pressing Zayn against the wall of the hallway, dropping him so his feet graze against the carpet. The music is too far away to be heard over heavy breathes and limbs knocking against each other to tug off the rest of their clothing. Liam chuckles when Zayn’s head smacks against the wall when he grinds his bare cock down against his.

“How do you want me, babe?” Liam asks, one arm leaning against the wall right beside Zayn’s head so he can groan against his ear. The other reaches between them to fit their cocks in the palm of his hand. “Against the wall? Need it too bad to wait for the bedroom?”

Zayn groans, hips bucking into the slow movements of Liam’s fist. “That’s you babe. You probably couldn’t pay attention at work today, you wanted me so bad,” he challenges, words coming out choked.  

“I know,” Liam whines, eyes going big. Zayn can imagine it, Liam sitting at his desk with bright red cheeks and his eye wide and nervous whenever anyone spoke to him because Liam had the irrational fear that people could read his mind and would know he was thinking about making his boyfriend beg for it. His palms sneaking to adjust himself in his pants under the desk, but wouldn’t sneak off to the bathroom because he loves being teased until he’s hard and leaking and desperate for Zayn to do something.

Liam’s fingers squeeze around them, moaning as if Zayn were speaking his thoughts out loud. He admires the way his head tilts back, the edge of his jaw defined as it tenses when he bites down on his lip. His eyes flutter, eye lashes spanning out across his cheeks before those sepia orbs are back on Zayn’s. Zayn considers changing the sketched face to this one, though he’d never be able to do it justice. It’s beautiful the way Liam looks as if he’s never felt anything better than when they’re touching, like every time is the first time. But Liam had been nervous their first time doing more than kissing, letting Zayn take over and guide him. It had only been a few times before Liam was pinning him down and taking control and _fuck_ , it drove him crazy.

“Turn around,” Liam demands, a growl rumbling in his chest. Zayn gasps, turning around before he even registers Liam’s words.

“Wanted you like this in there,” Liam breathes against his neck, arm curling around him. The other arm holds his waist, a better support than then the arm Zayn has against the wall to keep him standing. “Add my own artwork among yours.”

Zayn doesn’t have time to think about how corny Liam is before he’s wrapping a hand around Zayn’s cock, and unlike his promise, there’s no teasing in the way he tightens his fist as he pumps him quick, or when his fingers massage along the vein on the underside of his cock. The wet sound of skin against skin mixes along with their heavy breathes and the quiet moans leaving Zayn’s lips. His fingers flex and struggle for something to hold against the wall.

Liam’s hips roll against his back, cock pulsing above the curve of his ass, causing Zayn’s hips to switch between desperately thrusting up into his hand to grinding back against him.  Liam’s crowding him farther against the wall, pressing his chest almost painfully against it. He’s like putty when Liam takes over, malleable to every movement, every direction Liam guides him into.

Their limbs press painfully into each other and he knows Liam will take him to bed later, pressing soft kisses across the purpling skin until Zayn assures him he’s fine, ready for round two.

Liam’s cock presses between his ass, slick skin slipping across his hole and it has him coming without warning, hunching over into Liam’s grip as he streaks across the wall, down Liam’s fingers.

“Fuck babe,” Liam groans, biting the curve of Zayn’s shoulder. His fingers loosen, slowly dragging out the rest of Zayn’s orgasm as he grinds desperately against his back.

Sensitivity causes his body to shudder, but he doesn’t push Liam off of him. “C’mon babe,” he encourages, pressing his hips back into Liam. Warm liquid splays against his back as Liam lets out a broken moan, fingers digging into his hips.

Zayn turns to wrap his hand around Liam’s cock to pump out the rest of his orgasm as Liam’s weight presses against him. Liam mouths at his skin until he’s hissing from sensitivity and he wraps his fingers around Zayn’s wrist to pull him off. His cheeks are flushed, and Zayn considers finding new shades of pink and purple to mix together to perfect the color of his swollen lips.

Liam presses their foreheads together, his heavy breathing cascading over Zayn’s lips before his teeth pull gently at Zayn’s bottom lip.

“Do you still like,” Liam says between pants. “Chocolate sprinkled donuts more than me?”

Zayn laughs, wrapping his arms around Liam’s chest to pull him closer. “I like you more than everything.”

Liam smiles against his cheek. “Even Iron Man?” he whispers.

Zayn groans. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he tells him. Their breathing slows, evens out as they rest against each other.

He presses a soft kiss to Zayn’s cheek. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Zayn wonders how he’ll be able to capture the brightness in Liam’s eyes, or the glow against his flushed cheeks. “Of course. I only like Iron Man best when it’s you.”

It’s Liam that snorts this time, crinkling his nose before he nuzzles it against Zayn’s jaw. “Who’s the corny one now?”

 

It took him a long time, days locked in the art room trying to perfect it. Zayn knows he’s never going to be completely satisfied with it, he knows he is too hard on himself. He also knows Liam would love it even if he drew a round, simple smiley face with a red stick figure body instead.

Zayn stands a few feet away, hands on his hips as he admires the mix of golds and browns he used to capture the tanned skin of Liam’s face, and the dark rose over his lips. The blue still isn’t the correct shade, but it stands out the right away amongst the red and gold costume. He had managed to make Liam’s face glow, eyes bright and cheeks tinged pink, but it could have been done better.

“Liam!” He calls, heart stuttering in his chest. He needs to just get this over with. Liam’s been pacing outside of the art room every now and then the past few days, like he can’t control his excitement for the final piece to be revealed.

“What’s up, babe?” Liam asks almost seconds later, standing behind the door. It’s cracked open, but he doesn’t make a move to let himself through. He’s polite enough to pretend like he hasn’t been waiting.

“Um…it’s finished.”

There’s a long pause, and Zayn doesn’t turn to see Liam when he walks in. He’s not sure why he’s so nervous, he’s drawn plenty of things for Liam. He’s shared plenty of his drawings of Liam with him, though he doesn’t think the other man doesn’t know just how extensive his collection of drawings are.

“Wow,” Liam breathes, and it’s earnest and genuine.  His arms wrap around Zayn’s waist, and Zayn slides their fingers together. Liam hooks his chin on Zayn’s shoulder, staring up at the piece. It’s like this, he thinks of Liam as his superhero most – the strength of his arms closing around him and keeping him safe. Liam’s always been protective, always going out of his way to put Zayn’s comfort first. He doesn’t know how his past self couldn’t see it, the way Liam always knew what he needed. He always needed Liam.

“You made me look…”

Zayn waits for it, gnawing at his bottom lip.

“I look like a proper stud.”

Zayn throws his head back in a laugh. “You are a proper stud, babe.”

Liam presses a wet kiss to his cheek. “I love it babe. It’s ace.”

“I love you,” Zayn says, turning in his arms. His fingers curl in the material of his shirt, keeping him close.

Liam tightens the hold on him, letting his head rest against his chest. “Not as much as I love you,” he says back, fingers running through his hair before he presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Corny,” Zayn mumbles against his chest, to hide the fact that even after all these years, Liam is still able to make him blush.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know how this happened, I was kind of feeling a Ben Howard-y vibe hence the lyrics (Empty Corridors/Under The Same Sun/Diamonds) and then I was like lol let's make it playful so idk. Let me know what you think, please? [tumblr](http://zipplekink.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/aveszayn) if you need it!


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